The Collar
by Portmanteu
Summary: In which Clint obtains a gift for the God of Mischief. Warnings for smut.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing beyond the scenarios my twisted little brain spits out. All characters contained within belong to bigger and better entities than I. Please do not sue, as I own literally nothing beyond the clothes on my back. Also, grammar and tenses sometimes escape me, so please, be kind.**_

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Clint wasn't sure if this was a very, very good idea…or a very, _very_ bad idea. With Loki, you never really knew how he would react to anything until it was far too late to make an escape. Sure, they'd broached the subject. But only when he was buried balls deep in the God's tight heat. And Clint had found that Loki tended to agree to anything when in that state. So here he was, wandering the aisles of some nameless sex shop deep on the seediest side of the city, looking for a collar for the God of Mischief.

He hadn't set out with this in mind. But as he passed the shop, the large red 'XXX' on the sign had caught his attention, and he had flashed back to that night last week. "Gonna get you a nice little collar," he had said. "With a tag that says 'Property of Clint Barton'." And the way Loki had moaned before whimpering out a quiet "Yes," had told him all he needed to know about the god's opinion on the matter.

Moving through the store, Barton passed racks of restraints, cases of cock rings, and paused at the wall of whips. His eyes fell upon a hot pink riding crop, and he smirked, wondering what Loki would think if he presented him with such a thing. The god didn't bridle at the term "Princess" quite so often anymore, but a pink whip might be pushing it a bit, and Clint didn't really feel like risking Loki's ire. Especially when he already had something else in mind that might backfire spectacularly.

Moving on, the archer soon found exactly what he'd been looking for all along. Contained in a large glass case near the back wall of the shop were multiple styles of collars. His eyes darted over the display, looking for something in particular, and finally coming to rest on a thin black leather strap. It was unadorned except for a small gold plate which was fastened at both ends with tiny green gems. Clint felt an immediate shiver of lust run down his spine as he imagined placing that around Loki's slender neck. He wanted to see that thin strap against the pale flesh of the god's throat; to lick the edge as it bit in just ever so slightly. To see him on his knees, gazing up at him with those wide green eyes, the evidence of Clint's ownership spelled out so plainly in such a simple way.

He waved over the clerk to unlock the case, and when the man blandly stated, "We can engrave this, if you want," he felt his knees go weak. It took a moment to untangle his tongue enough to tell him that yes, he did indeed want that, mentally adding 'and could you please hurry because I'm on the verge of passing out'. Ten minutes later, and Clint was on his way back to the apartment, a small black box clutched in his trembling hand.

Later that night, Clint found himself standing under the stinging spray of the shower longer than he normally did. He'd come home and hidden the box in the nightstand drawer, thinking that he would wait for the proper time to present it to Loki. Now he found was slightly apprehensive of the god's reaction. He knew that the idea of being owned appealed to Loki; of being Clint's property. But only under the right set of circumstances. And while Clint was more than capable of handling rejection, he had realized that this was something he desperately wanted. Bowing his head under the fall of steaming water, he sighed deeply and steeled his resolve before shutting off the faucet.

Clint quickly dried off, short brown hair sticking up in crazy spikes, and slung the towel low around his hips before exiting the bathroom. He strode into the bedroom, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs as Loki's eyes immediately slid over his body. He knew the effect he had on the god, and although he didn't quite understand it, he was undeniably flattered.

"I was beginning to think you were _never_ coming to bed," Loki purred, his gaze taking in his archer's solid frame, lingering over his corded arms and flat stomach.

Clint worked up his trademark smirk, and said, "Oh, you missed me? How sweet."

Loki grinned and slicked his tongue over his lower lip, causing a spike of arousal to hit Clint straight in the gut. The god saw the sudden slackening of his Hawk's jaw and his smile widened. He knew of Clint's fondness for his mouth, and Loki never missed a chance to remind him in small ways of the pleasure it could bring. "Come here, and I shall show you how _sweet_ I can be."

Clint pulled off his towel and hung it on the closet doorknob before crossing to the bed. He was still struggling with uncertainty, but he found himself less concerned now that he could see Loki responding to his presence. He put one knee up on the bed and leaned over the god, planting his hand next to his head. Loki arched up to meet him and their mouths clashed, all tongue and punishing teeth. Tangling his free hand in Loki's fall of ebony hair, he tugged the god's head back and mouthed his throat. The thought of the collar, tucked in the drawer just a few feet away rose unbidden in his mind, and he moaned.

Loki's slender fingers laced together around Clint's nape, and he murmured, "Use your teeth on me, my Hawk. Mark me."

Clint needed no further prompting, and bit down sharply at the point where neck met shoulder. Loki hissed in pleasure and writhed under him, hips pushing up from the bed. Releasing the god's hair, Clint pulled the thin sheet away and licked and nipped his way down Loki's chest, pausing to suckle briefly at one of his nipples before moving to the other. Loki uttered breathy little cries, his hips undulating, length already fully hard and straining. Clint captured that peaked bit of flesh between his teeth and sucked an angry red mark around it, the sound of the taller man's gasps going straight to his cock.

Loki pulled Clint down atop him, spreading his legs to allow the archer to rest between them, their arousals pressed together. "More," Loki gasped, guiding Clint's mouth back to his throat. He eagerly complied, leaving bite marks and bruises behind to mar the god's pale skin. And as he did, he slid one hand between their bodies, gripping them both and snapping his hips forward. The silken drag of their flesh in his fist was exquisite, and he growled as Loki thrust up from beneath him, those hooded green eyes staring into his own. A languid smile curved the god's mouth. "I do so love when you growl," he cooed. "It makes you seems so…possessive."

"You like that," Clint panted as he tightened his grip, stroking roughly in time to their combined motions. "When I'm possessive?"

Loki rolled his hips and slid his fingers up through the archer's still damp hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. "I like being yours," he said simply.

Clint's heart jumped into his throat at Loki's words. There would be no better time to bring out the collar, and he needed to do it now, before he lost the nerve entirely. He pressed a quick, greedy kiss to Loki's mouth, before rising up onto his knees and reaching for the nightstand drawer.

Loki pushed himself up onto his elbows and gave Clint a quizzical look. "Whatever are you doing?"

"You'll see," Clint murmured, grabbing the box from the drawer and sinking back on his haunches between Loki's spread thighs. "Sit up," he said. "I have something for you."

One eyebrow arched up, and the corner of the god's mouth twitched into a smirk. "You have a present for me? Now?"

"Trust me, now is the perfect time," Clint answered, hating the slight tremor he heard in his tone.

Loki pushed himself upright, legs still splayed around the archer, curiosity causing his jade eyes to gleam. Clint held out the box out hesitantly, his gaze searching Loki's face as the god plucked the gift from his palm. He gave Clint one last lingering look, lips curving into a rueful smile before looking down and removing the top of the box.

Clint waited for Loki's reaction, nerves taut as his bowstring. And the god was not assuaging his fears, as he stared down into the box without saying a word. The seconds stretched out, and Clint's heart slowly dropped from his throat into his stomach. He was mentally cursing himself six different kinds of a fool when Loki finally spoke.

"This is…for me?"

"Yes," Clint said quietly.

Loki traced his fingertips over the inscription on the gold plate. 'Property of Clint Barton' it read. He raised his burning gaze to the man before him and asked, "You would claim me, then? Make me truly yours?"

"Yes," Clint breathed. "W-we've sort of discussed this before."

That smirk was back on Loki's face, and his eyes fairly glittered as he drawled, "We _have_, haven't we? I did not know if you meant it, though. Things that are said in the throes of passion are not always upheld after the glow has faded."

"I want this," Clint said, his tone firm, all doubt fled from his mind. "So badly. And as long as you do, too, then yes. I claim you as mine."

Loki's smirk spread into a lascivious grin as he plucked the collar from the box and held it out to Clint. "Then claim me," he murmured.

Clint took the black leather strap into his faintly trembling hands as Loki swept his hair up and aside. He leaned in a bit, drawing the collar around Loki's throat and quickly buckling it into place. It fit like it was made especially for him; snug, but not overly tight, and the gold plate on the front caught the light just so. Loki's face took on a coy cast, and he asked, "How does it look?"

"See for yourself."

Loki slid off the edge of the bed and crossed to the dresser, examining his reflection in the mirror. "Oh," he breathed, raising one hand to trace the line of the collar fastened about his neck. "It's…glorious." And as he turned back to the bed, Loki dropped to his knees, rocked back on his heels and bowed his head slightly, looking up at his archer from beneath lowered lashes. "What would you have of me, Master," the god purred, smirking as Clint's eyes widened. "Now that you have claimed me, you can do as you wish. _Whatever_ you wish."

Clint felt his cock twitch at Loki's words, imagining all that he'd like to do to the god. He slipped from the bed and moved to stand in front of him, thrilling in the subservient pose and the fact that Loki was as hard as he'd ever seen. Clint's mind absently noted that this was the first time the god had ever voluntarily knelt before him while his body screamed for him to throw Loki to the floor and truly claim him. Instead, he took Loki's chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted his face up to meet his burning gaze.

"I want your mouth on me," he rasped, voice utterly blown with lust. The sight of the collar around Loki's neck was sending shock-waves of arousal through his entire frame, his pulse rising and heat pooling low in his belly. The idea that Loki had willingly, no…_eagerly_ submitted to him causing his blood to boil.

Loki nodded and gripped Clint's hips, turning him so that the smaller man could lean against the dresser. The god rose to his knees and ghosted his lips along the side of Clint's cock, feeling it twitch and bob, straining for his mouth. He slid his tongue out, teasing, tasting, licking slowly and his Hawk loosed a desperate moan. "Take what you want, Clint. You own me now," Loki murmured, before sucking just the head into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue against the now leaking slit.

Clint cried out and fisted one hand in the god's fall of ebony hair. The other clasped his nape, middle finger sliding under the thin black strap that marked Loki as his property. He pulled him tight against him, feeling his cock slide all the way down the back of Loki's throat, and Clint uttered a feral growl before starting to violently fuck his mouth.

Loki groaned around the flesh filling his throat. His eyes watered at the pressure of Clint's thrusts, and he greedily took every last inch as he stared up at the man currently abusing his mouth. The archer met his gaze, arms flexing as he pulled Loki forward to meet each thrust. The god sank back on his heels, changing the angle, and allowing Clint to snap his hips a little faster, a little harder, taking all that Loki was willing to give, and then some.

They carried on like this for some time; Clint growling out his desire; Loki moaning and choking on the archer's thick cock. Finally, the smaller man dragged the god to his feet and kissed him harshly. He sucked the other's tongue, tasting a hint of his own flavor, and dropped both his hands to squeeze Loki's ass as he devoured his mouth. Finally breaking for breath, Clint snarled, "Up on the bed, now. I want you on your back."

"As you wish," Loki purred, and backed away, Clint following closely.

Loki reclined back against the pillows, eyes following Clint's every move as he slipped between the god's spread legs. Lowering his head, Clint nipped sharply at his stomach, and as Loki cried out, he swallowed the god's arousal. His cries turned into a surprised wail and Loki's hips arched up off the bed, burying the last few inches deep in the archer's throat. Clint slid his hands under Loki's hips, holding him above the bed and noisily slurping up and down on his cock. After a moment, he pulled back, dropped Loki's hips to the bed and gripped the backs of his thighs. He shoved the god's legs back, knees almost to his chest, and leaned back in to swipe his tongue against Loki's entrance. The god keened, twitching and writhing under the assault, begging to be filled. Clint was happy to oblige, and pressed his tongue deep into Loki's body, fucking him with short, shallow strokes.

Loki found he had no leverage in this position, so he hung helplessly in Clint's grasp, his body ablaze as the archer worked him into a frenzy. He longed to thrust back against Clint, to grind himself into that talented mouth, but all he could do was submit to the other man's attentions. After several long minutes, he pulled his tongue free from Loki's trembling body and slid in two fingers, causing the god to keen loudly and toss his head. The light from the hall caught the golden plate on Loki's collar, and again Clint felt that rush of arousal that shot straight to his cock. He ground his hips against the bed and continued stretching Loki, preparing him for what was soon to come. Adding a third finger nearly caused Loki to spill right then and there. And as Clint curled his fingers inside, stroking that special spot, the god began to tremble violently.

"P-please," Loki gasped. "Please, Clint…"

"Please _what_," he rumbled, rutting his cock against the mattress, nearly moaning at the dry friction of his motions.

"_Fuck me_," the god pleaded, his voice gone tight with desire. "I want you. Now. I _need_ you."

Clint leaned in and spat on his fingers, giving two more deep strokes to spread the moisture before pulling free and rising to his knees. He leaned down over Loki, one hand planted next to the god's flushed and wanting face, the other gripping his own cock, guiding himself into the grasping heat between the taller man's thighs. They moaned together as Clint breached the tight ring of muscle, and sank fully into Loki's body. He stilled himself then, holding his position, staring down at the collar. The golden plate was fully visible, splashed with light, and he could easily read the fancy script. 'Property of Clint Barton' stared up at him, and he slowly licked his lips, drew back slightly and slammed deep into Loki's burning heat. The god wailed in pleasure, then, noticing Clint's locked on stare he brought one hand up to trace the edge of the collar, as a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yours," he whispered.

"Fuck _yes_, you are," Clint growled, rearing back before snapping his hips forward again. "I want you to wear that all the time. If we're here, then it's around your pretty little neck. Understand?"

"Yes," Loki moaned. "As you wish."

"That's a good boy," the archer hissed, as Loki's body clenched and released rhythmically around him. He noted the flush rising in the god's face; spilling over into his chest, and he knew that he'd gotten to him. Loki had a few very well defined buttons, and Clint was currently pressing all of them. He smirked down at him, slowing his hips, and changing his pace to short, shallow strokes. The frustrated whine from below told him all that he needed to know, and Clint slowly pulled free from Loki's body. The god loosed a harsh sob at the loss of his Hawk's cock, and pushed himself up to capture his mouth. Clint returned the kiss lazily, his tongue sliding deep between Loki's lips.

Breaking free from Clint's mouth, Loki panted, "Lay back. I want to ride you."

Clint growled and moved up to recline against the pillows, his hand going to his aching cock. He stroked slowly as Loki crawled atop him, straddling his hips and lining himself up. Loki's hands fell upon Clint's chest, balancing himself as he sank down, fully enveloping the archer's length within his warm and willing body.

"_Goddamn_ it," Clint swore as his hands went to Loki's hips, fingers digging in to his pale flesh. "How can you be so fucking _tight_?"

Loki leaned forward, lifting himself and shuddering at the delicious drag of Clint's cock as it slid free from his body. He stopped with just the very tip pressed against his entrance, then pushed back down, uttering a strangled gasp as Clint's hips thrust up to meet him. The archer trembled beneath him as he rocked forward again, lifting his hips before dropping back, quickly falling into a punishing rhythm. Loki undulated, his entire body moving in a sinuous dance, hands sliding, gripping, touching his Hawk as Clint glared up at the god, eyes darkened by lust. Leaning in, he licked the smaller man's mouth, then arched up and back, tossing his head and stuttering his hips in a way Clint had never experienced before.

"Oh. Oh _fuck_," Clint moaned, as Loki leaned back further and gripped the archer's thigh for leverage. The god brought one hand up to briefly touch his collar before sliding it down the center of his chest, over his stomach and curling his fingers around his own straining cock.

"Are you going to come for me, Clint," Loki questioned in a low, throaty tone. He languidly stroked his own arousal, smirking as the archer's eyes dropped to watch those slender fingers tease and work.

"You first," Clint panted, his hips rutting up into the tight heat of Loki's body.

"Watch me," Loki breathed, his fist tightening around his girth, stroking faster. "Watch as I come undone, my Hawk. And know it is because of you."

Moving his hips in small circles, the god gasped and moaned as he brought himself closer to the edge. Clint thrust shallowly, his attention split between watching the motion of Loki's hand and the myriad of expressions flitting across his face. It was when his brows drew together and his mouth dropped open into long, low moan that Clint began to work Loki's body a little harder. The god's back arched, his hips jerking as he stroked his length with quicker motions, and Clint felt Loki's indescribable tightness clamp down around him. A whine rose from Loki's throat, a pleading, keening cry, and he gasped out, "C-clint...I'm coming. _Oh_…please. _Fuck_ me."

With a feral growl, Clint thrust up from beneath, burying himself deep inside of Loki, pitching the god over the edge. He came, screaming, painting his lust across his Hawk's chest in heated streaks. Clint surged up and rolled Loki onto his back, spreading his legs wide and pounding into him, snarling as he filled him again and again. Loki bucked and twisted beneath him, begging in a broken voice, "Come for me, Clint. Mark me yours. _Claim_ me!"

And with a low, shuddering wail, Clint's orgasm broke. He dropped his head and licked the edge of Loki's collar as he filled the god with wave after wave of his release, all the while thrusting deep within Loki's pliant body. "Mine," he gasped raggedly, arms tightening around the taller man's slight frame. "Mine."

Loki's arms slid around Clint's back, one hand rising to card through his hair. "Yes," the god replied, with a slight smile. "Yours."


End file.
